The Bear's Daughter
by Aletheya
Summary: Ulfric Stormcloak and his soldiers were about to be executed, along with a Nord seventeen-year-old girl who seemed strangely familiar. When he learned she was the daughter of one of his most trusted friends, he swore to himself he'd protect her no matter what. However, due to her fiery personality and her status as Dovahkiin, that ended up being more difficult than he thought.
1. Prologue - Helgen

**A/N: Hello and welcome to my story! This is my first try into writing fanfiction, though I'm in the process of writing a fantasy novel as well. As such, and also because of my busy college life, the updates will probably be sporadic. I'll try my best, though. Thank you in advance for giving this story a chance!  
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**Prologue - Helgen**

Ulfric Stormcloak observed the girl next to him, sprawled unconscious on the cart. She was barely out of childhood, surely no more than fifteen years old. Having the typical pale skin of the Nord people, she had blonde hair so light it almost seemed white, but was small and skinny, lacking the strength and the curves of a Nord woman.

Small she may be, but she didn't lack fire. Ulfric would've chuckled if not for their hopeless situation, but he couldn't smother a smile behind his gag.

The girl had apparently been hiking through the forests near the border when she had stumbled into the Imperial ambush, right as the gods-damned Imperials were starting to arrest everyone. She had probably been with her head in the clouds, because she only stopped when she bumped into an Imperial soldier.

"Whoops, sorry." She had mumbled; and then saw what was going on. Her eyes widened. "What in Oblivion…?"

By that moment, the girl must have realized she was in deep, deep trouble. "Er, do you mind if I continue on my way?" She said to the soldier she had bumped into, who was looking at her suspiciously. "Didn't mean to crash your party."

Ulfric would have facepalmed then if his hands hadn't already been bound.

The soldier, a hardened Imperial woman, didn't find her words funny, however.

So the girl had been bound and harshly interrogated. The little spitfire, though, didn't much feel like cooperating and, after calling the Imperial woman a "Hag from Oblivion" and commenting on the elves' tendency to "make stupid laws like forbidding people from taking a stroll in the forest", she had, obviously, been thrown onto the carts with Ulfric and the rest of the Stormcloaks.

The girl had fallen asleep shortly afterwards, shivering with cold. Ulfric cursed the damned Imperials who had taken away her warm clothes and dressed her in rags. Couldn't they see that the child would freeze to death? Or perhaps that was their objective; they would probably feel guilty having to execute her.

Now, however, the girl was finally starting to stir. With a whimper and a shiver, she opened her eyes and looked blurrily around her, yawning.

Apparently, he hadn't been the only one observing the girl, because Ralof spoke then. "Hey, you're finally awake."

She blinked at him, as if trying to bring him into focus, and answered only with another huge yawn, reminding Ulfric of a sleepy kitten.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" Ralof continued. "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there." He nodded his head toward the man sitting in front of Ulfric.

"Damn you, Stormcloaks!" The thief ranted. It seemed to be fine to talk now that the girl was awake. Ulfric asked himself if the men had remained silent just to let the girl sleep undisturbed. It wouldn't surprise him. Bound and gagged as he was, he also felt a strange need to protect the little wisp of a woman beside him.

"Skyrim was fine until you came along! If it weren't for you, I could've stolen that horse and been half-way to Hammerfell!" The thief continued his tirade. "You!" He practically yelled at the girl, who startled at being so harshly addressed. "You and I shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." Ralof said, his voice still calm.

"Shut up, back there!" The carriage driver ordered.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" The thief asked, suddenly, pointing at Ulfric with his shin.

"Watch your tongue!" Ralof admonished. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!"

The girl finally seemed to notice that Ulfric was sitting next to her, and focused her startling light blue eyes on him. He thought there was something about her face that seemed familiar, though he couldn't, for the life of him, understand what it was.

"Ulfric Stormcloak?!" The thief gasped. "You're the leader of the rebellion! But if they captured you… oh Gods! Where are they taking us?!"

"I don't know where we're going", Ralof sighed. "But Sovngarde awaits."

"No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!"

"Wimp." The girl muttered, with a snort, looking at the thief askance. Ulfric suppressed the need to snort with laughter; the girl was truly something else.

"Where are you from, horse thief?" Ralof asked, a minute later.

"Why do you care?" The man practically growled, still hurt from being called a coward by a little girl.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." Ralof answered simply.

This seemed to deflate his anger. "Rorikstead. I-I'm from Rorikstead."

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" A soldier called, from the small settlement they were approaching.

"Good, let's get this over with." The General replied.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" The thief started praying.

The girl sighed quietly, but was otherwise silent, with a resigned expression. Ulfric couldn't help but admire her courage.

They crossed the opened gates and entered the village, noticing General Tullius talking quietly with an Altmer.

"Look at him. General Tullius, the Military Governor!" Ralof spat with disdain. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves! I bet they had something to do with this." He looked around and said, in a softer voice. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He sighed, and his voice lowered even more. "Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe…"

Ulfric looked around as well. Some of the villages' walls were already crumbling but, for the most part, they still stood strong. People were starting to leave their houses and pooling into the streets, as was usual with public executions. And he was now part of the show, bound and gagged for everyone to see.

"Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!" The woman Imperial captain ordered to the soldiers nearby. The carts were now stopping in a corner near the stone wall.

"Why are we stopping?" The thief asked, dumbly.

"Why do you think?" Ralof rolled his eyes. "End of the line." He looked at the girl with a kind smile and, even with his hands bound, helped her to her feet. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."

Ulfric was the first to leave the cart, followed by the reluctant thief. "No, wait! We're not rebels! This is a mistake!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Ralof said, while he helped the girl jump out of the cart.

"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you!" But the thief was ignored.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!" The captain ordered.

"Empire loves their damned lists." Ralof muttered darkly.

Ulfric was the first to be called. Straightening his back, he walked with his head held high towards the block, but kept his attention on the girl surreptitiously. He still couldn't shake the feeling that she was familiar somehow, though he was fairly sure he had never seen her before.

This was confirmed when the soldier asked for her name and she answered, her voice ringing clear and fearless. "Hannah Fireheart."

The Jarl barely contained a gasp. Fireheart! No wonder she was familiar, she was the spitting image of her father, Loki Fireheart! He had battled next to Ulfric in the Great War and followed him to Skyrim, to become one of his trusted Stormcloak generals. Unfortunately, he had died a few months ago of a wound that had festered.

"How old are you, girl?" The Imperial soldier asked, perplexed.

"Seventeen." She answered, without a waiver.

"What are you doing here in Skyrim alone?"

"Does that matter? Apparently it's illegal now to take strolls in the forest and bump into Imperials." She answered, with a snort.

The soldier seemed to be taken aback and turned to his captain. "Captain, what should we do? She's just a child. And she's not on the list."

"Who cares about the list?" The woman answered, disdainfully. "She goes to the block."

The soldier sighed, defeated. "I'm sorry…" He said to the girl. "At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner."

The girl, her back straight and her visage as proud as Ulfric's had been, didn't bother waiting for the captain. Instead, she walked towards the rest of the soldiers and muttered, very clearly, when she passed the captain: "Hag from Oblivion."

Now the Jarl couldn't hold his own amused snort, and he heard many of his Stormcloaks chuckling lowly as well when the captain struggled to refrain herself from murdering the girl on the spot.

General Tullius, however, kept a straight face, as if nothing had happened. He stood in front of Ulfric and looked him directly in the eyes. "Ulfric Stormcloak." He started. The Jarl prepared himself for a long-winded speech from the man. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Ulfric grunted derisively, though it was muffled by his gag. The General continued. "You started this war; plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace!"

A loud, animalistic roar sounded from somewhere in the sky.

"What was that?" The soldier with the list asked.

"It's nothing. Carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius!" The captain saluted, scowling fiercely at the Nord girl, who had apparently been making faces at her the whole time, judging by Ralof's muted laughter beside him.

"Give them their last rites." The woman ordered to the priestess of Arkay who stood next to the block.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the-" She started to recite, in a bored voice. Thankfully, a Stormcloak soldier interrupted her.

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" He said, walking to the block.

"As you wish." The priestess said haughtily and walked away, looking miffed.

"Come on! I haven't got all morning!" The brave soldier insisted. As the Imperial captain forced him to kneel and rest his neck on the block, he announced. "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?"

_They definitely can't_, Ulfric thought to himself, applauding his soldier's courage. He noticed the girl looking away with her eyes closed as the axe fell on the soldier's head, and pitied her.

"Next, the waif in the rags!" The captain ordered, pointing at her. Ulfric growled lowly at the captain. How dishonorable, executing an innocent child just because she had been on the wrong place at the wrong time.

The loud roar sounded again, startling everyone.

"There it is again. Did you hear that?"

"I said, next prisoner!" The captain insisted.

With regretful eyes, the soldier beckoned to the girl. "To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy."

She went, without hesitation, seizing the moment to make another ugly face at the captain that brought more laughter from the Stormcloaks. Ulfric could have sworn he saw even some Imperials struggling to contain a chuckle.

The captain pushed her roughly to her knees, no doubt with the intent to hurt her as she fell. The girl didn't make a sound though, only gritted her teeth. _If I had a daughter, I would've wished for her to be like this girl. Beautiful and daring_, Ulfric found himself thinking. He prayed silently to Shor for her acceptance in Sovngarde.

As the headsman lifted his enormous axe, though, a monstrous beast descended from the clouds with a roar and roosted atop the Imperial tower.

"Dragon!" A woman yelled.

Seizing the confusion that ensued, Ulfric and his Stormcloaks sprang into action. He seized a dagger from a fallen imperial and proceeded to cut his own binds and gag. Sheathing the dagger, he looked for a sword and grabbed it as well. Grabbing Ralof next, he shouted at him, barely able to hear himself through the fires and blocks of stone that seemed to be raining from an ominous red sky. "Get the girl! Quick!"

Ralof nodded and ran for the girl, who was still kneeling, dazed, next to the block, looking at the corpse of the headsman that had somehow been impaled by his own axe.

"Come on, girl! Get up! The Gods won't give us another chance!" Grabbing her arm and lifting her roughly to her feet, he ran behind Ulfric to the tower, and the Jarl helped the soldiers barricade the door as soon as they were all inside.

He looked around and noticed several soldiers in the ground, gravely wounded. Ordering their companions to look after them, he approached the girl and cut her binds with the dagger he had stolen. Next, he cut Ralof's binds, receiving a muttered thanks from him. Hannah was still looking around half dazed, so the Jarl shook her lightly, forcing her to focus.

"Are you alright, child? Hurt anywhere?" He asked, his voice soft but firm.

She blinked at him momentarily and struggled to regain her calm. After a couple of deep breaths, she nodded and answered him. "Yes, thank you. I'm not hurt."

"Good." He squeezed her shoulders reassuringly before releasing them and turned to Ralof. "And you?"

"I'm alright, Jarl Ulfric." The blond man sighed. "Was that really a dragon? Like in the legends?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric answered darkly. Outside, the roars and the sounds of fire and stones falling were still evident. "We need to move. Now!"

Ralof nodded and grabbed the girl's arm again. "Up through the tower! Let's go!" He started to run, dragging her with him. She disengaged her arm and ran after him up the stairs.

Suddenly, though, Hannah screamed and grabbed Ralof's tunic, pushing him back a few steps. At that moment, the wall of the tower imploded, right where the soldier had been, and the dragon stuck his head through the hole, roaring fire.

As soon as the dragon was gone, Ulfric heard Ralof urging the girl to jump through the roof of the inn next to the ruined tower. A few seconds later, the soldier was back without the girl.

"Did she land safely?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. We need to get out of here. Ralof, go after the girl and do your best to keep her alive." Ulfric looked very seriously at his soldier, who was baffled at his orders. "She is important. She must be protected." He would die before he let Loki's little girl get hurt. "Go!"

Thankfully, Ralof didn't question his orders and went hurriedly up the tower, after the girl.


	2. Chapter One - Mirmulnir

**A/N: I realized I forgot to add a disclaimer last chapter, so here goes:  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The game and all its contents and lore is the property of Bethesda Softworks. The character Hannah Fireheart, though, is my own.  
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**Chapter One – Mirmulnir**

Ralof observed the young woman walking in front of him as both ascended the steps to Dragonsreach. Her normally light hair was dirty, caught in a messy ponytail and, even though she was clad in leather and could probably walk as silent as a shadow, she seemed to be pounding the stairs with force on purpose, as if they were to blame for her disheveled state. He couldn't see her face from his vantage point, but he was willing to bet she was scowling fiercely, as she had been the whole journey back to Whiterun.

He and Hannah had escaped together from Helgen and, after two days of rest in his sister's house in Riverwood, had come to Whiterun to warn the Jarl. She had stubbornly told him she could do that simple errand by herself, but Ralof insisted on going with her. His commander had ordered him to take care of her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

So that was how both of them had received a mission from Jarl Balgruuf's court mage to go to Bleak Falls Barrow and retrieve a heavy stone tablet that had something to do with dragons. They had done so successfully –despite having to fight bandits and hordes of draugr – and were now back with the "stupid stone", as Hannah had called it.

His little charge, though, had been acting strangely since the last chamber of Bleak Falls Barrow. He had been looking for the tablet when he noticed her next to a stone wall, touching its strange markings as if trying to make sense of them. He could have sworn, for a second, that a strange golden light had erupted from a spot in the wall and enveloped her, but he dismissed it as a trick of light.

She hadn't said more than a handful of words, since then, and seemed on edge about something. Even when he so graciously offered to carry the thing for her, saying it was too heavy, he had been rewarded with a sore head: courtesy of a stone tablet thrown at his forehead by an enraged female.

He had learned his lesson, though. Mentioning her small stature and weight – or lack of it – equaled physical pain.

The guards at the palace let them in without a word. Hannah stormed through the great hall without even waiting for Ralof, and he caught up with her right as she entered the mage's workroom. The man was talking to a hooded figure about books of dragons, but looked up as soon as they approached. "Ah, back from Bleak Falls Barrow?" He asked. "You didn't die, it seems!"

Without a word, Hannah retrieved the tablet from Ralof's backpack and held it with both her hands. The mage perked up at the sight of it. "Ah, the Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Bar-" And he crumbled to the floor, dazed and clutching his bleeding nose, after receiving a tablet to his face. Ralof grimaced in sympathy. He knew firsthand how much that hurt.

Hannah slammed the offending tablet on the nearby table with a loud bang and growled at the mage. "Next time you ask me to get something as ridiculous as a slab of stone from some stupid ruins filled with stupid bandits and spiders and walking corpses, I'll drag you there myself and use you as draugr bait!"

Ralof wondered briefly if it was _that_ time of the month.

Everyone waited in silence while the man healed his nose with some restoration magic and got unsteadily to his feet. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for bringing me the Dragonstone so promptly." He said, and continued with a little more confidence when he wasn't hit. "I believe it will bring us some light on this dragon business."

"So, what happens now?" Hannah asked, still seething.

"Oh, you don't need to concern yourself with such matters!" Farengar answered. "This is where your work ends and mine begins; the work of the mind, sadly underv-"

_Aren't mages supposed to be smart?_, Ralof thought, as the court mage crumbled again to the floor and Hannah towered above him, shaking with fury. The girl was scary.

A light chuckle escaped from the hooded woman next to the table. "You deserved that, Farengar." She turned to Hannah and Ralof then. "You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work!"

Praise seemed to have the power to calm the teenager, as she stepped away from Farengar and lowered her threatening fist. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." The woman seemed to smile, though it was half-hidden by her hood. "My… employers will be very satisfied that the Dragonstone has been found. It will finally allow us to study these dragon appearances properly." She turned to Farengar, who was already healed and on his feet. "I'll be on my way, then-"

"Farengar!" Irileth, Jarl Balgruuf's Dunmer housecarl, entered the workroom running and panting slightly, looking worried. "Farengar, come quickly! A dragon's been sighted nearby!" She turned to Ralof and Hannah then. "You both should come too; the Jarl will want to speak to you."

The three of them followed her, Farengar asking endless questions about the dragon that Irileth ignored. The Jarl was on the upper floor of Dragonsreach, already being informed by a guard.

"I was on my post in the Western Watchtower, my Jarl." The frightened guard was saying. "Then suddenly we all heard a roar and looked up to see a dragon approaching."

"Did it attack the Watchtower?"

"Uh, no. At least not while I was there. It was just circling overhead when I left. I came to inform the housecarl as soon as I saw it… never ran so fast in my life."

"You did well, son." The Jarl assured him. "Go to the barracks for some well-deserved food and rest."

"Thank you, my Jarl."

"Irileth, I want you to gather some guards and go down to the Western Watchtower to fight this dragon."

"I've already ordered the guards to muster near the main gate."

"Good. Remember, this is no death or glory mission. I need you to return alive, Irileth."

"I understand, my Jarl. Don't worry, I am the very soul of caution." With a salute, she turned for the stairs and hurried for the exit.

The Jarl turned to Ralof and Hannah next. "There is no time to stand on ceremony, friends. I need you both to fight this dragon alongside Irileth. You survived Helgen, so you have much more experience in these matters than any of my guards."

"I should go as well; I want to see this dragon up close!" Farengar chimed in, his expression resembling that of a child who just received their favorite present.

"No, Farengar. I can't risk both you and Irileth."

"My Jarl," Ralof seized his opportunity to talk discreetly to him while Hannah was busy glaring at Farengar's ridiculous pout. "I swore I would protect my friend Hannah, but letting her fight against a dragon isn't exactly safe… Could you please forbid her to go as well? She's just a little girl."

"Well, she's seems a very capable little girl to me, but I suppose you're right. I won't forbid her, though; she has the right to fight if she wants to." The Jarl turned to Hannah. "Miss Fireheart, why don't you stay here in the palace so we can discuss your reward for retrieving the Dragonstone?"

The teenager scowled suspiciously at both men. "I thought we had to go fight a dragon? Isn't that more important than talking about rewards?"

"Yes, well, I could go ahead while you talked to the Jarl, Hannah…" Ralof suggested.

Her scowl got even more pronounced. "Are you trying to stop me from fighting, Ralof?"

"Well, I'm… I'm not exactly stopping you, I just… it's a dragon, after all, and-" He stopped abruptly when he heard her growling.

With only a vicious glare at the very sheepish-looking men, she turned around and stomped away, muttering quietly "I need to kill something."

A few seconds later, Balgruuf broke the silence. "You know, she may be just a little girl, but I wouldn't cross her all the same. She's as fierce as her name says."

"I'll just go after her, or she might kill more than just a dragon."

As he was leaving, Ralof was sure he heard the Jarl mumbling "Maybe it's _that_ time of the month?"

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Hannah took a deep breath as soon as she left Whiterun, hoping it would clear her head.

Ever since that wall with the words in Bleak Falls Barrow, she hadn't been able to concentrate on anything else. It was all she could think about, those strange blue markings calling her, whispering to her always the same word: "Fus".

Fus. What in Oblivion was Fus?! It didn't make sense! She felt like shouting it to the heavens, but she knew she wouldn't. Why would she shout some random thing when she didn't even know its meaning? It would be ridiculous, and she didn't like ridiculous. Like that son-of-a-daedroth court mage.

She wondered what his reaction would be if she shouted "Fus" right in his face. Maybe if she deafened him he would finally shut up. No. He would probably talk even louder and that wouldn't do at all.

Well, she was going to kill a dragon. Perhaps she should shout it instead at the overgrown lizard with wings. It wouldn't be as satisfying, though.

She slowed down her pace, letting a slightly breathless Ralof catch up with her. She wasn't angry at him, per se. She knew he cared for her and was trying to protect her, but she was no child! She was half-breton, damn it! Of course she was a little scrawnier than other Nord women her age! That didn't mean she couldn't – and wouldn't – kick every single one of their asses with a hand behind her back!

"Hannah, I'm sorry-"

"Shut it." She ordered. "We have a dragon to kill. Let's just hurry up to the Watchtower; Irileth's already there."

When both arrived at the tower – which had clearly been attacked by a dragon, judging by the fires and the debris scattered all around – they found Irileth interrogating a survivor.

"It's still here somewhere!" The panicked man was saying. "Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they were trying to make a run for it!"

"It's alright, soldier." Irileth tried to reassure him, patting his shoulder awkwardly. "We'll take care of this now. You just go back to Whiterun and rest."

A loud roar that was becoming much too familiar for Hannah's taste sounded, making everyone reach for their weapons.

"Kynareth save us, here it comes again!" The guard whimpered, but drew his bow all the same, following the housecarl's example.

"Everyone, find cover and bring that beast down with your arrows!" The dark elf ordered. "Let's go kill us a dragon!"

Having no bow herself, Hannah had to stand by as the dragon circled the tower, roaring fire at everyone who was unlucky enough to be caught on its path. _His_ path. She didn't know how she knew that, but she was sure this dragon was a male. And to add even more weirdness to an already surreal situation, a name kept popping in her head: Mirmulnir. _Huh_. Too much Fus in her head probably had her imagining things.

She cursed and scampered away when the grass next to her caught on fire, courtesy of the flying lizard that had just passed right above her. _Damn myself and my stupid head in the clouds!_

Finally, some long agonizing moments later that had seemed like an eternity, the dragon landed on the ground with a loud crash.

_My turn to shine!_

With a battle-cry that would've made any Nord warrior proud, she charged at the dragon while it was distracted chewing on some unlucky guard. Grabbing her two iron war axes firmly, she swung at the dragon's unprotected left wing and jumped with a somersault over his body. She got a sore rear as a reward, but at least Mirmulnir wouldn't be able to fly now. Grumbling at her failed acrobatics, she scurried hastily out of the way of the enraged beast's mouth to avoid being roasted, but not before incapacitating the other wing with a well-placed swing. Jumping again, she landed with her legs on each side of his long neck and buried both her axes in it with another cry, practically severing it.

"_Dovahkiin! Nooo!" _Mirmulnir roared. Or whispered, more accurately, since he had no breath left as his blood was gushing out of the twin gaping wounds in his neck.

Or maybe that was her overactive imagination at work again.

She got away from the dragon and cleaned her weapons on some of the grass that had escaped his pyromaniac onslaught. After sheathing them, she decided to massage her abused backside while she waited for the others to approach her and her kill. "Meh, it was worth it." She mumbled, stretching her back.

"Hannah! Thank the Nine you're alright!" Ralof was the first to reach her, his expression changing from panic to relief in the fraction of a second as he found her uninjured.

"Tell that to my poor lovely rear, Ralof." She answered, with a smirk.

"Is it dead, then?" One of the guards stupidly asked. She was about to answer him with a snarky comment when the man jumped backwards with a startled expression. "Wait, what's happening?"

Hannah and Ralof turned around to look at the dragon and found it… well, _burning_ would be the most accurate word. Except it wasn't on fire; it was disintegrating into pieces which seemed to be burning like paper as they _floated_ apart from the dragon's body, leaving only the bones and a strange golden light surrounding them. _Eerie._

Suddenly and without warning, that same golden light shot out of the dragon's remains and slammed directly into Hannah's body. Breathless, speechless and with her skin tingling, her first coherent thought was: _Fus means Force. I'm glad I didn't shout it out loud if it means force. How weird would it be to just randomly go right up to people's faces and shout "Force!"? Too weird, says I._ Wait. _Why in Oblivion am I thinking this when I just killed a dragon and had its remains shooting light at me?! What on Nirn is going on?!_

She was going nuts, that's what was going on.

"I can't believe it! You're… Dragonborn!"


End file.
